


A drowning of sensibilities

by Perplexedlemon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Cannibalism, M/M, More tags to be added, No sexual assault, Possessive Behavior, References to Sexual Assault, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perplexedlemon/pseuds/Perplexedlemon
Summary: Will had always thought that the tune of his death would be the sound of a wayward gun shot, or the slice of a concealed knife to the gut. Being a police detective, these were very real fears, however as the years went on he more and more began to suspect the end would instead be announced by the damning empty rattle of his pill bottle, all pills swallowed.He soon learned, after his lengthy trial and sentencing, that he had been wrong on all accounts. Will’s death knell was one of squeaking seats on a rickety bus with only one destination.





	A drowning of sensibilities

Will had always thought that the tune of his death would be the sound of a wayward gun shot, or the slice of a concealed knife to the gut. Being a police detective, these were very real fears, however as the years went on he more and more began to suspect the end would instead be announced by the damning empty rattle of his pill bottle, all pills swallowed.

He soon learned, after his lengthy trial and sentencing, that he had been wrong on all accounts. Will’s death knell was one of squeaking seats on a rickety bus with only one destination.

While he had somehow slipped through the hands of the prosecutors and ended with a life sentence rather than a death sentence, it was only by the skin of his teeth. Will had no delusions as to how he would fair in prison. He sat skinny, clean shaven, with deep set black circles and a pallor to his skin which clearly announced that he was only recently recovered from an illness. And, of course, this was discounting the fact that he was an ex-cop. It left little doubt that his life was being dragged out painfully instead of the peaceful death he would have otherwise been afforded.

Although Will had toyed with the idea of protective custody, he ultimately decided that this was a fate worse than what awaited him in the prison halls. Being left in solitary with only his mind to occupy him for the remainder of his life was a worse punishment. In a way it would be its own death sentence, as Will’s sense of self diminished and he became something completely other.  

The bus arrived at its destination with a jolt and a rattle of chains as all the occupants of the bus lurched forward. Will felt sweat bead his forehead and stain his underarms as one by one he and the five other occupants were made to leave the relative normality of the bus and marched through the front gates of the prison. It all felt suddenly much more real, being able to glimpse the bright orange attire of the people in yard, the stern faces of the guards who lead him instead, and the metallic clang and metallic hiss of a lock as the world was firmly shut out.

Will was utterly terrified.

The reality he was now face with was daunting. The rules of the regular world no longer applied within these walls. He had had enough trouble negotiating social situations as it was, being thrown into a new location with new unknown conventions made him feel something akin to drowning.

Will was again absurdly grateful that he was going to be able to keep his glasses even if they were not subscription. At least he would have some defence against the clashing minds of the violent offenders he would be surrounded by. He could only hope, after years of prison, that he eventually surfaced in his own mind instead of someone else’s entirely.

Once inside, Will and the others were filed into a reception area where they joined several other new prisoners who arrived by means other than state transport. He was registered and moved almost immediately to a small holding cell where he would await processing with a handful of others. Will felt like he was sweating bullets. The air was stifling, and claustrophobic and he hadn’t even truly entered the prison yet.

He ached for Wolf Trap – the comfort of his converted farmhouse, and his acres of land.

He ached for his dogs.

After a nervous half an hour, when it became abundantly clear that he would be within the cell for a while, Will found a relatively unoccupied area and sat down, muscles tense and eyes firmly glued to the ground and not at any of the other occupants.

Nearly an hour after this point, Will was removed from the cell by a rather boisterous guard who seemed more interested in the rather loud conversation he was having with the other guards than Will himself, laughing loudly and jostling Will with the strong grip he kept on his upper arm. He was pulled into a small room and directed dismissively to sit by a wave of the hand of a short, plump, brunette woman who sat in front of the only desk in the room. The door slammed shut as he took his seat, and in an impressively unenthusiastic voice she explained that she would be conducting an interview in order to learn where in the prison would be the best fit for him and would direct him to the next part of his induction procedure.

The interview, for it’s brevity, was surprisingly thorough and even included questions aimed at ex-cops. It made Will breathe a sigh of relief that at least he would not have to be faced with the very few criminals he had put away.

From here Will’s handcuffs were removed and he was ushered through several areas. He was divested of all of his belongings, including clothes but excepting his glasses, and made to go through a rigorous inspection and then showered. Will’s face was bright scarlet and humiliation burned low in his chest by the time he was finally given some standard issue clothes to put on. Some of the guards had nudged each other, laughing mockingly at the general shyness of him and some of the others which had only fanned the heat of Will’s face and chest.

The end of the lengthy process was announced by a snap shot, a printed ID card, and another small holding cell.

Will stood for quite awhile staring at the stranger printed on the card. His sickness had really taken so much from him, bringing a hollowness to both his body and eyes where there hadn’t been before. It made him glad he never had any friends to speak of, so they wouldn’t have to see how far he had fallen. So he wouldn’t have to see their disappointment.

An indeterminable amount of time later when it appeared as if everyone had passed through processing, Will and the others were removed from the cell and lined up outside. There was general hush within the room, which made the approaching footsteps seem all the more ominous. The sound brought a tall, thickly built, dark skinned man into the room, whose domineering presence took up all remaining available space.

“Good evening!” The man shouted, voice echoing off the walls. Will flinched at the sudden break in the silence, but quickly straightened as the eyes of the man settled on him and he caught a smirk from the prisoner next to him.

“My name is Officer Jack Crawford, you may refer to me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Officer Crawford’.  I am the head of security at this facility”. His voice was loud and stern, leaving no room to doubt his position or the power he now held over them. He stalked the room briefly, making sure to make eye contact with each of the new inmates as he passed. Will quickly looked at the frames of his glasses as he passed, silently hoping Crawford would not notice or somehow take this as a sign of disobedience. Will breathed a sigh of relief when he glanced over him as something completely unremarkable.

“Some ground rules before we release you into the tank. Everyone who enters these halls is equal and will be treated equally. I do not give a rat’s ass who you were outside here, nor what you did to end up here. Step outside the line and you will be punished. Follow the rules and you will make life a lot easier on yourself. Your lives are worth less than every single guard in here. You mess with my officers and you mess with me, understood?” The last was said quietly, the threat clear. Will hoped he would never have any reason to interact with the man beyond here.  

There was a long silence as Crawford let the threat and meaning sink in, eyes flickering over each inmate for some sign of dissent. He nodded his head in satisfaction when none was found.

“Good. You will be shown to your zone and your commissary area to collect the rest of your supplies and will then be taken to your assigned cell. Lights up 5:30, lights out 10pm. Breakfast at 7, lunch at 12, dinner at 6. You miss these times, you do not eat. You will all be assigned jobs which you will be expected to be at. Any other individual provisions will be explained to you by the officer for your zone. If you are not in your cell for count or lights out there will be severe consequences “, Crawford recited, eyes stony. He moved to stand near the door through which he had entered and waved his hand towards some of the guards stationed in the room.

“That’s all. I’m sure you will all have a pleasant and unremarkable stay.” Will couldn’t help by worry what was awaiting him in the rest of the prison that warranted the sarcasm in his tone.

Crawford’s exit seemed to indicate the start of some proceedings and guards began corralling prisoners into groups.

Will heard “Graham, Nix, Sanchez, you’re with me” being called and before he could do anything he was swiftly being led with two others out of the room. Two guards flanked them, one at the front leading them through a maze of corridors and out through the compound to a large grey building labelled as ‘block 5’, and one following up back. Will was surprised to notice that neither of them carried guns, or any clearly identifiable weapons at all. There was an object that could vaguely be recognised as a taser, but definitely no guns on either on the men or any officer they passed on their way to and from their zone outside the reception. Will hadn’t really stopped to think about what prison would be like beyond a cell and having to interact with his other inmates, but he supposed that in a maximum-security prison a guard is more likely to have a gun stolen and used against them than it being of any use.

Inside the building was more bright and open than Will expected, though his imagination was mostly coloured by bad TV shows and hearsay. The jeers of the other inmates were just what he expected however. They passed not a soul for several minutes, until a wayward prisoner caught sight of them, shouting “Ooo we got us some fresh fish!” at the top of lungs. From that point on there were eyes everywhere. People from all over coming to stop and take a look at them, or just stop and size them up.

Some couldn’t care less, and most quickly lost interest, but Will still kept a firm stare on the frames of his glasses and avoided looking in the direction of anybody for fear of what he might see.

The commissary was a fairly large, open reception-like area which acted like a store for what looked to be a variety of types of hygiene items, snacks, writing instruments, and some small games. While the guard in front joked with one of the women officers manning the desk, Will and the other two new inmates were supplied with an additional set of clothes, some very basic hygiene supplies, and bedding. They had to stand and wait for the guard to finish his conversation, Will was too shaken to pay much attention to what was being said, but it was move he was sure was used to emphasise their unimportance. But perhaps, Will conceded, he was reading too much into it.

Eventually, they were walked to their individual zones within the block and passed on to a different guard in charge of that section. Both Sanchez and Nix were passed off at Zone 1, which left will a long walk to Zone 4 alone to where Will was assigned.

Here he was introduced to a slim woman of Asian decent who introduced herself as ‘Officer Katz’.

“And if I hear any catcalling or meowing you’ll be heading straight down to solitary,” she said in a serious tone, but with a slight smile. Will felt some tension ease. At least the guard he’d come into most contact with treated him like a person.

“You won’t be hearing much from me,” Will promised. Not if he could help it at least.

Katz raised an eyebrow, “Let’s hope so. Come on, let me show you your home for the next few years”.

They walked side by side until they reached a cell which she pronounced as number 18. It was cramped, but not any more than he expected, with a single bed, sink, toilet and an extremely small desk. There was a tiny window along the back wall, positioned too near the ceiling to see out and too muck covered to bring much light, but Will was still thankful for its presence. He laid his things on the desk and sat on the bed with its paper-thin mattress, springs whining in protest, while Katz observed from the doorway.

“Cosy isn’t it?” She said with a laugh. “So I’m sure you’ve heard Officer Crawford’s usual spiel, but food is in an hour at 6 in the mess hall - it’s easy to find. If you’re not there on time you won’t be let in. You need to be in your cell by lights out for count. Disobeying any of the rules will lead to a trip down to solitary or some privileges revoked so think wisely before trying anything. I’m ultimately in charge of this zone but the guards change frequently so you’ll see a few faces around her. If you have any issues, come to me. All good?”

Will swallowed, throat dry, and nodded.

“Good. Here’s your job schedule,” she said, handing Will a piece of paper which he took and stared at blankly. “You’ve been assigned to work in the kitchen. You’ll work two shifts of four hours each day. First shift is tomorrow at ten. If it’s not a good fit we’ll see what else is available. I recommend you don’t turn up late.”

He gave another stiff nod when the silence stretched enough that it became clear that she was looking for some input from him. She sighed.

“That’s all.” She paused. “Good luck Graham,” she finally said and turned and walked back down the corridor.

Will listened enough to hear her stop to talk to someone else, and then switched off, violently scrubbing at his hair and clenching his eyes shut. He could feel tears burning up in his throat, but he refused to let any fall. He hated that he has ended up here, but he had no one else to blame – and that almost hurt more than the prospect of what awaited him when he stepped foot outside his cell.

He sat there wallowing in self-pity for a while, even when the dinner hour came and left. Although the last thing he’d eaten was a hastily wolfed “breakfast” provided in his holding cell at the county jail, his belly felt full of knots and he didn’t think he could eat anything if he tried. The prospect of facing anyone else as he was now felt too daunting to even attempt.

As the hours passed, Will eventually stood up and stiffly made up his bed, curling up and lying to stare at the wall. Will’s heart rate shot up each time he heard voices pass by his cell but none seemed to stop to bother him. He relaxed when he heard the sound of the doors bolting and then the lights switching off as the entire block wound down for the night. Will thought he heard someone pass by later, probably a guard checking that everyone was where they were supposed to be, but Will was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care.

How in the ever-loving fuck was going to survive tomorrow?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just a quick note to say this is just the introduction to a longer story with actual plot. I'm writing this as stress relief, and I'm stressed 24/7 so expect somewhat frequent updates.
> 
> I know nothing about prison beyond google, and what information I could find was sometimes contradictory. Aspects of actual prison aren't conductive to fanfiction (who knew?) so I'm also ignoring some huge social factors, such as overcrowding, budget cuts, and (mostly) racism in the legal system. Basically, imagine I've poured actual prison facts, my imagination, and some TV shows into a jar and given it a good shake (i.e. I'm sorry to anyone who knows anything about prison). I'm also not American so please forgive any mistakes!


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